My sister, Clementine, cusses all the time. Every other word is the "F" word. It's her favorite word. Being around her is kind of like watching an old episode of the Smurfs, where the word "smurf" is the only adjective in the smurf language.
Although my sister, Clementine, is an avid reader, the "F" word is the only adjective in her vocabulary.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not being judgmental towards people who like to cuss all the time. I just have my own philosophy about cussing. I like to save cuss words up and only use them for those times when I'm really really mad. I like to save them up. That way, if someone really pisses me off, they can get the full effect of just how mad I really am. They'll say "Whoa man, she must have been really mad, she just said the "F" word and I've never heard her say that.
I used to never ever cuss ever. I used to be like Ned Flanders on the Simpsons, but this guy broke me of that.
His name was Mike Bullard. He was my sister's boyfriend. I honestly don't know why she went out with him. I hated this guy. I bet he hated me because my sister told lies about me all the time.
Well, this one wintry night, I was in the back seat of the car. Clementine was driving us to a concert in Dallas and Mikey was in the front seat smoking a cigarette with the window open. There is a crazy scientific phenomenon that occurs when you have the window rolled down while driving sixty miles per hour on a highway...the person in the front seat just hears a loud roar, but the person in the backseat gets pounded with the full force of winds more powerful than Hurricane Katrina.
My ears were aching, the cold air was hitting my face like sharp needles and pins. I thought that at any moment, my head might shatter or explode. I was experiencing intense physical pain and so I asked very politely. "Can you please roll the window up?"
Well, I might not have been very nice about it and I seriously doubt that I asked nicely. It is very possible that I could have been one of those whiny tag along little sisters that nobody wants around. They let me hang around because I was the one with the job and they were using me to pay for their joy rides. They could have been nice about it and kissed my but. But if I am going to live in fantasy land, why not ask for sugarplums and mermaids?
Anyway, Mikey thought that it was hysterically funny to torture me and listen to me scream, so after he was done smoking, he just acted like he was enjoying the cool breeze of the highway air. It was freezing cold outside. He had the heater blowing on him, and I was about to die of hypothermia.
After a few minutes of listening to me howl away in utter torment, Mikey decided that he would roll up the windows, if, and only if I would say "Roll up the f***ing windows. I was pretty mad by then, so I said the "F" word. My very first one. It was my first time cussing and I've never been the same since.
Mikey didn't roll up the window. So I kicked the back of his seat and continued kicking it until he did roll up the window. My foot slipped off the back of the seat and I ended up kicking him in the face a few times.That was a big mistake, because he was much meaner to me after that. He did everything in his power to seek revenge and make my life a living hell.
Mikey and Clementine told everyone about the "F" word incident and everyone, everywhere I went knew that I had said a bad word and they all reminded me about that horrible embarrassing experience and begged me to say "Roll up the f***ing windows. People screamed that phrase as I walked through the halls at school, or at the mall, and even when I went to Dennys. People that I had never even seen before came up to me and begged me to say it.
But I never did, until a few years later when Dottie moved in down the street from me. I had just given birth to twins and I guess she felt compelled to help me in my time of need. So she kept having these parties and get togethers and planning all these outings. She would come by and pick my kids up all the time and take them all over the place. But she'd never dress them up cute or bathe them or comb their hair. She would dress them in the nastiest garage sale clothes that she could find. This might have been fine if we lived in a trailer park in Arkansas, but we were living in a very prestigious city and I wanted my kids to be clean, well mannered and well dressed. I don't want to raise a bunch of pigs. But she did.
This one time, she invited some relatives to come for a visit after she had filled my house with so much garbage and clutter than nobody could find anything. Then she came over to get my kids and was getting on my little boy's case because he couldn't find his shoes. I had been nice and polite and well mannered and hadn't said a thing, but I couldn't take it anymore. So I flipped out and cussed her out.
Everyone just thought that I was mentally ill.
No comments:
Post a Comment